a little bit daft
by AkaOkamiRyu
Summary: Despite genius level intelligence, impressive reasoning skills, and several advanced degrees, love can make anyone a bit daft. [A series of one-shots focused on Fitzsimmons, often featuring the team].
1. daft

Welcome to the first of my (generally non-au) series of Fitzsimmons one-shots. As to be expected, I don't own AoS or any of the characters, just the ideas here.

-a little bit daft-

* * *

It's been fifteen days, four hours and twenty seven minutes since she woke up in a glass case frantically reaching for the reason she was able to wake up at all.

A lot has happened in those fifteen days, four hours and twenty seven minutes but not the one thing she wants most. The team has taken out Garrett. Ward is in custody. Nick Fury is alive. They're at the Playground with another Agent Koenig, the whole of their team, a small group of doctors. Coulson has been tasked with rebuilding S.H.I.E.L.D. and they've spent countless hours slowly working out those details while small, silent splinter groups of the once massive organization take out Hydra agents at Coulson's bidding. (Everyone left that Coulson trusts now knows he's alive and working 'round the clock to neutralize what remains of the organization).

It's all wonderful, generally speaking, or would be if not for one important fact: Fitz has not yet woken up.

She's let the world move around her, tucked up in a chair by his bed, eating when Skye drags her away, sleeping when Trip carries her sleeping body to a bed, bathing when Coulson gently suggests it and sipping tea whenever May silently brings her a cup.

Otherwise she sits and waits, occasionally reads books aloud or listens to old favorite songs, grasping the fingers of his unbroken hand and nearly chaffing the skin of his knuckles as her own fingers constantly ghost over them. It has, at the very least, given her a lot of time to think.

He loves her: there's no denying what he'd meant in those last moments and while she's never been sure herself about love, she thinks she must love him back. What else would one call this shift in her center of gravity, his sleeping body the only thing holding her anywhere? What else could explain the feeling settled deep in her chest that he is the only thing she cannot exist without? The endless cascade of tears, fears, hopes and joys as she relives moments of their combined Fitzsimmons life, aloud to him in the hopes of prompting him awake?

If all that isn't love, what is?

* * *

Fifteen days, four hours and forty two minutes after she wakes up in a glass case, he joins her.

She's half asleep and almost misses it, almost dismisses it as fever-dream and hopefulness, but the second time she hears the startled, panicked rasp of her name, she can't deny it.

Jemma Simmons unfurls from the chair and leans over him. "Fitz?" And is rewarded with the most breathtakingly beautiful, puzzled frown she has ever seen.

"Jemma? How'm I alive?" The pain on his face is obvious, his head must be pounding and he's sluggish as he wakes up for the first time in more than fifteen days, four hours and forty two minutes but it's okay: he's awake and he remembers and, judging by the uncomfortable shifting he's doing, he can still move everything (though it'll be stiff, sore and take some major PT to get back to full function). They can deal with the rest.

"You didn't think I was going to let you die for me without a fight, did you Leopold Fitz?" Her chastising words have no bite, even if they did the tenderness of her expression would bely it. "You're my best friend in the world and so much more than that—I'd rather die than have left you."

"You beautiful, daft woman," he mumbles, bringing their still joined (always, every moment she's been by his side) fingers up to his lips to brush them against her knuckles before exhaustion promptly claims him back.

She smiles softly, "rest up Fitz. We have our whole lives ahead of us to argue about who the daft one is," before running her fingers softly across his brow.

* * *

Expect fairly regular updates. I have a few of these already written and a prompt request on tumblr for at least a dozen more that fit under this theme. I'll also be uploading a one shot series of AU's. Those of you following Arm &amp; Arm, never fear, updates are on the horizon for that as well. It's to be my summer project (along with big kid curriculum work and lesson planning), so as soon as school gets out in two weeks, there will be some concerted effort put forth.

Reviews, feedback and comments are greatly appreciated. If you have a theme idea you'd like to see, let me know!

Best Wishes,

AOR


	2. lines in the sand

Lines in the Sand [aka, on the fate of spiders]

* * *

He discovers what Fitz will eventually call her 'spider idiosyncrasy' the day they move in together upon graduating from the academy.

After much discussion about moving tactics and strategies, they come to the agreement that the best plan of attack is to move all their things into the living room, sorting them into neat piles. They plan to clean each of the other rooms top to bottom before unpacking one at a time. Fitz queues up a playlist, Simmons breaks out the cleaning supplies and they decide to tackle the kitchen first (Fitz's idea: obviously if they're undertaking an overnight unpacking marathon, they're going to need snacks).

They manage the kitchen just fine, working around each other as easily as they always have in labs (as easily as they will in their own lab, at SciOps, where they start in one week). Fitz washes out the cupboards, scrubs the shelves, while Jemma takes to the floor and counters and within the hour it's shining and they're debating the best places to house various utensils. By the end of the second, they've moved onto the bathroom.

That's where the trouble starts.

Fitz is hanging up the shower curtains when he hears the shriek from the closet, where Jemma is currently nestled, putting things away. Miraculously, he manages to slip out of the tub without tripping on the half-hung curtain in his haste to find out what's wrong. Peering around the open door, it takes just a short moment to deduce the problem.

Jemma Simmons, biochemist extraordinaire, who is regularly up to her dainty little elbows in guts and goo, is backed into the closet corner, facing off against a common house spider.

He fights against, and loses to, the urge to laugh. "Really Jem? I've seen you dissect a tarantula without batting an eye." He manages through a snort of deep laughter: he's never seen anything shake the woman before.

She turns to him with a sharp look, eyes narrowed against the mock of his chuckles. "You have to draw your line in the sand somewhere Leopold Fitz—this one's mine," comes the prim, stern reply. "Need I remind you of the incident with the clown last autumn?"

Fitz isn't a particular fan of spiders himself but without a word he heads out to the kitchen to retrieve a cup and scrap of paper, catches the offending arachnid and brings it outside for release. (He doesn't have to ask to know Jemma will throw an even larger fit if he tries to kill the thing).

* * *

As always, I do not own AoS. This is just another one-shot installment in the 'daft' series. I realize that Jemma Simmons being afraid of spiders seems a bit odd, but just as she says, everyone has their limits somewhere and it popped into my head that loose spiders catching her by surprise could be one of hers.

I've got a list of ideas started and will be posted a prompt # request on tumblr (which I'm calling Palindromic Sets), which will be another series in an of itself. Arm &amp; Arm, my Pokemon AU, will be updated relatively soon, now that school is out for summer and I've got a bit more time since I'm not correcting papers and planning lessons.

Suggestions are always appreciated-if you have an idea you'd like to see a story (albeit, likely brief) for, just let me know.

Thanks for the support!


	3. Skype

The Academy does not run quite the way a university would—after all; it's a training ground for special agents. Still, it breaks itself into fall, winter and spring terms with a week off between each and a month for the summer. Like many of the other, granted few and far between, international students Fitz and Simmons find it hard to justify either the expense or time to travel home during the week long breaks after fall and winter terms.

Luckily, their second week in they'd been assigned lab partners and had been fast friends ever since, helping to keep the homesickness and loneliness at bay. Now, however, they're waiting at baggage claim at Heathrow and simultaneously keep an eye out for their families, home after nearly 11 months away.

Fifteen minutes later, suitcases in hand, greetings and introductions exchanged, they part ways with a quick hug and the press of Simmons' lips against his cheek. "See you in a month," she smiles. He nods, flushed with embarrassment, and gives a squeeze, neither really contemplating just how long 4 weeks is.

* * *

He hasn't even made the long car ride back to Glasglow with his mum before he's missing her. 11 months with Jemma Simmons no more than a ten minute, cross-campus walk away and suddenly he's staring at twenty-nine long days. His mother is too filled with excitement and plans to notice his sudden shift in mood (and he's glad, because he certainly doesn't want her to think he's not thrilled to see her again, he is).

He toys with his cell phone as they chat, fighting the urge to interrupt her family time just because he suddenly finds himself clingy and needy for her friendship when he'd never been that way with anyone before. They stop in Lockerbie for dinner, still a ways off from home, and he can't bring himself to leave the phone in the car, slipping it in his jeans pocket. His hand rests twitchingly over it whenever he's not in the midst of eating.

They've been back on the road ten minutes when he feels his cell vibrate in his pocket. At first he figures he's imagined it, but the sensation startles him again, not fifteen seconds later and once more after that before he's able to pull out the phone.

**J Simmons (6:23 PM)**: I keep pausing midsentence, waiting for you to finish my thought or a story. I think my brother thinks I've lost it.

**J Simmons (6:24 PM)**: Which is a strange way to convey that I miss you—which is silly, it's only been six hours.

**J Simmons (6:24 PM)**: But then I think 29 days and feel a little less silly.

Fitz smiles, both at her words and his own relief. He's not alone then, in feeling suddenly oddly lonely. He ponders how best to respond, trying to think quickly, knowing that somewhere in Sheffield, Jemma Simmons is probably still feeling very silly, despite her comments otherwise.

**L Fitz (6:27 PM)**: Skype later tonight?

He knows that she'll understand that he feels the same without having to say it. The request to put forth effort to talk to someone not something he makes lightly (only for her or his mum). Sending off the text, he imagines the brilliant Jemma Simmons smile it will likely invoke and lets the thought of seeing it for himself in a few hours hold the missing-her at bay.

**J Simmons (6:28 PM)**: Yes definitely—I'll call at 10:30? You can't be home yet and I'm sure you mother will want some time with you there.

**L Fitz (6:29 PM)**: Forty-five minutes away yet. 10:30 is good. See you then.

He would feel ridiculous about how much better he suddenly feels except he doesn't care. Instead, he spiritedly launches into a story for his mother and spends the last of their ride inquiring about the people in their neighborhood and letting her familiar voice share news about the people that make up her world.

* * *

By a little after ten his mother has managed to fill him to the brim with tea and pie, show him every new thing she's done to their small house since he's been gone and pack in months worth of fussing before turning in for bed. He assures her he's not long off himself, just a quick chat with Jemma first, and soaks in the warmth of her smile as she tells him how glad she is he's found such a lovely friend.

Fitz grabs a quick shower to rid himself of the ick of travel before unpacking his things in his familiar old bedroom, laptop set up and just waiting for Jemma's Skype call. Punctual as always, he's in the midst of hanging up a sweater when she rings through at precisely 10:30. He drops the blue fabric to the ground in favor of answering and is greeted in exactly the way he expected: a dazzling, breathless grin and her eagerly launching into a greeting followed by a story about her brother and sister, with scarcely an inhale between them.

They talk for over an hour before the long day catches up with them, swapping yawns and trailing comments, both of them stretched over their own beds with the laptops on their stomachs.

"Maybe a little earlier tomorrow night, yeah?" He asks, surprisingly confident in the request. He's never been one to put effort into friendships before but then again, he's never had a friend like Simmons.

"Yes please," she replies without even a pause to consider. "Maybe a movie night?"

Twenty-nine days and twenty-nine Skype sessions later, they're both badgering around with hanging up. They've got early mornings ahead of them—especially Fitz, who has a far longer drive to Heathrow than she does—but both are as hesitant to end the call as the other. Finally, chivalry wins out as Fitz notices Simmons dipping in and out of sleep.

"Simmons, get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon okay?"

"Mmm," she mumbles, smiling pleasantly despite being half asleep. "Be prepared to put up with an embarrassingly excited hug at the airport."

"Can't wait."

* * *

Skype was prompt #17 on my tumblr prompt request list, Palindromic Sets. I just kind of invision them going home for the first time and feeling suddenly very lonely at the idea of so much time without seeing each other, so they end up Skype-ing every night. (Also, please note I've only used Skype once, so apologies if the usage language isn't entirely correct).

As always, by the by, don't own anything but the writing here.

Thanks for reading (&amp; to all those leaving support) and if you have any suggestion or ideas, please feel free to let me know.

Best Wishes &amp; Take Care,

AOR


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